THE  LIBRARY 

OF 
THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


USHA  SONGITA 

SONGS  OF  THE  DAWN 


SRI.  JOGESH  CHANDER  MISROW,   M.  A.,  Ph.  D. 


With  An  Introduction  by 
JULIAN  B.  ARNOLD 


Published  and  Copyrighted,  1 91 9.  by  J.  C.  Misrow 
233  S.  Ashland  Blvd.,  Chicago,  U.  S.  A. 

All  Rights  Reserved 


Printed  in  Chicago.  U.  S.  A. 


TO 
G.  M.  V.  DEVI 


M'fciir? 


AND 


TO 
MY  LOVING  INSPIRATION 


1733171 


FOREWORD 

AH  this  is  reminiscent ! 

Since  that  twilight  many  things  have  come  to 
pass.  Yes,  they  have  changed  even  the  face  of 
the  fair  earth.  But  at  last  the  anguish  of  night's 
deep  darkness  merges  into  the  dawn's  vibrant 
resplendence  in  the  East. 

How  different  was  that  adoration  in  the  moon- 
light, from  this  calm  worship  in  the  dawn ! 
To  a  Brahmin  the  supreme  joy  of  victory  lieth 
in  the  sacredness  of  Renunciation.    Unforgotten 
— only  Enshrined — so  be  it  to  the  end ! 

And  these  Songs  of  the  Dawn  are  no  more  than 
faint  refrains  of  my  unchanted  hymns  to  Thee. 


INTRODUCTION 

It  has  ever  been  the  wont  of  those,  nurtured 
under  Oriental  skies,  to  express  their  loftiest 
thoughts  in  verse,  leaving  to  the  professional 
story-teller  the  task  of  reciting  in  prose  national 
exploits  and  mundane  happenings.  This  instinct 
of  Asia  to  voice  the  lispings  of  her  soul  in  accord 
with  the  rhythms  of  the  universe  has  enriched 
mankind  with  the  splendour  of  the  Vedic  hymns ; 
with  the  profound  wisdom  of  the  Mahabharata ; 
with  the  astronomical  knowledge  enshrined  in 
the  Chaldean  epic  of  Gilgamash ;  with  the  en- 
during tone  of  the  Iran  Avendi ;  with  the  mov- 
ing drama  of  Job;  with  prayers  and  prophecies 
of  Isaiah ;  and  with  the  rhapsodies  of  the  Psalms. 

To  the  Occident  belongs  a  sterner  instinct,  a 
grimmer  gift.  As  the  light  of  the  sun  obeys  the 
dividing  magic  of  the  prism,  so  the  light  of 
knowledge  may  be  separated  into  its  component 
parts,  whereof  the  clearer  tints  enwrap  devo- 
tional philosophies  while  the  deeper  colours  bathe 
the  pageantries  of  this  material  world.  The  Oc- 
cident is  richer  for  the  stirring  pages  of  the 
Illiad ;  the  entrancing  adventures  of  Odysseus ; 
the  clash  of  arms  and  the  sea  breezes  of  the 
Sagas ;  the  chivalrous  teachings  of  a  Roland  or  a 
Cid.  But  in  the  realms  of  religion  we,  of  the 
Western  world,  stand  mouthing  misty  prose 
amongst  the  awed  crowds  attendant  on  the  dark 
ceremonials  of  the  Druids,  the  bloody  sacrifices 
to  Odin,  or  the  gloomy  meetings  in  the  cave  or 
dell  of  the  early  Christians. 

As  it  hath  been  it  will  be.  In  the  convoluted 
conch-shell  the  Oriental  hears  the  mystic  music 
of  that  eternal  Ocean  which  is  the  love  devine. 
In  the  dust  of  labour  and  the  bush  aflame  the 
Occidental  sees  the  trodden  path  to  God. 


Therefore  have  we  no  surprise  in  finding  so 
eminent  a  savant  of  India  as  Sri  Jogesh  Chand- 
er  Misrow,  one  who  is  the  holder  of  the  Master 
of  Arts  degree  of  Stanford  and  a  Doctor  of 
Philosophy,  expressing  in  untrammeled  and  ingen- 
uous verse  the  true  self  of  their  author  in  these 
SONGS  OF  THE  DAWN.  To  me  it  has  been 
a  great  privilege  to  read  these  poems  in  their 
manuscript  form,  and  I  have  discerned,  as  I  ven- 
ture to  think  all  who  must  who  read  with  in- 
ward vision,  that  the  obscurity  of  our  mental 
skies  is  bravely  pierced  by  the  author  with  a 
light  of  faith  in  the  purposes  of  life  and  the 
themes  of  his  poems  are  suffused  with  the  tints 
of  a  Divine  Dawn. 

It  were  invidious  to  select ;  but  poems  are  like 
eyes,  some  appeal  to  us  and  claim  our  sepcial  at- 
tention, admiration.  In  the  "Star-Babies"  occurs 
a  motive  so  charming  that  in  Elizabethan  days  it 
had  been  called  a  pretty  conceit;  in  the  "Incar- 
nations" the  contrast  between  the  golden  sands 
of  Egypt,  the  snows  of  the  Arctic  circle  and  the 
verdant  gardens  of  India  are  artistically  striking; 
in  the  "Moon  Stone",  we  have  a  song  so  ardent 
yet  soft  that  it  might  fitly  borrow  the  music  of 
one  of  oft  sung  Indian  Love  Lyrics,  and  "Thy 
Temple"  resounds  with  fervent  ecstasy. 

It  was  a  favorite  saying  of  the  late  Sir  Edwin 
Arnold  that  those  who  think  in  poesy  have  clear- 
er eyes  than  those  who  think  in  prose,  and  in 
wishing  bon  voyage  to  these  exquisite  verses — 
"The  Songs  of  the  Dawn" — I  would  venture  to 
echo  that  phrase  of  the  author  of  the  Light  of 
Asia,  who  loved  so  well  the  earnestness  and 
depth  of  the  ancient  philosophies  of  India. 
Chicago,  U.  S.  A.  Julian  B.  Arnold. 

October,  1919. 


CONTENTS 

Song  of  the  Dawn  17 

In  the  Moon  and  the  Dawn 18 

Summer  Dawn    19 

Star  Babies'  Moon  Mother.... 20 

Moonstone 21 

ToBengal 22 

Sea  or  Python 23 

My  City  24 

Shuttle  of  Fate 25 

Sun  --  Crucifix  26 

Incarnations 27 

Why  Tonight  28 

Response 29 

Where  Tonight 30 

Temptation  31 

Forlorn 32 

New  Cross 33 

Coronal 34 

Star-Thieves 35 

Ode  to  India  36 

Anticipation 37 

Pain 38 

Mystic  Sunset 39 

Cathedral 40 

Sri  Gautama  .  41 


Tonight 42 

Bell,  Candle  and  Book 43 

VesperSong  44 

Thy  Temple 45 

Mother  46 

Peret  Hirshbein  47 

Ode  to  the  Indian  Ocean 48 

The  Natal  Day  50 

The  Taj  Mahal 51 

In  Nirvana 52 

My  Unsung  Song 53 


DAWN 

Who  shall  sing  the  Song  of  the  Dawn  ? 
Not  he  who  kept  the  glory  of  the  eve 
Away  from  his  temple, 
Barring  fast  the  gates ; 

Nor  he  who  dreamt  night-long 

Of  numbers  and  scales  in  busy  mart 

Even  though  the  day  was  done ! 

The  crescent  canoe  on  the  sky-ocean 

Sailing  to  the  dreamland 

Beckoned  in  vain  to  him. 

His  parched  lips  sipped 

The  fiery  draught, 

Seeking  in  roar  of  passion 

That  which  silence  alone  can  give, 

In  worship  of  soul  by  soul — 

Vain  to  him  the  calm  of  night. 

But  he  who  mutely,  gently,  night-long 

Vigiled  the  flickering  wick  of  hope 

As  the  storm  raged  and  groaned 

Without — within — 

Will  he  now  rekindle  the  sacred  flame 

With  the  warmth  of  his  bleeding  heart, 

Now  that  the  storm  is  gone, 

And  darkness  is  no  more — 

His  is  the  hour — the  day — 

Sings  he  the  Song  of  the  Dawn! 


17 


IN  THE  MOON  AND  THE  DAWN 

Last  eve  in  the  moon 

Under  the  bower  of  the  star-vines 

I  vowed  the  eternal  vow, 

I  adored  Thee  as  Love. 

The  evening  breeze  whispered 

The  passion-mad  plea 

Far  and  wide — 

Last  eve  in  the  moon. 

Today  in  this  Thy  dawn, 

Under  the  flaming  canopy  of  heaven, 

In  the  first  rays  of  the  rising  sun 

Thou  art  transfigured; 

I  worship  Thee  now,  Goddess! 

The  morning  wind  echoes 

My  sacred  chants 

Far  and  wide 

Today — in  this  Thy  dawn  ! 


18 


SUMMER  DAWN 

What  musings,  what  far-off  dream — 

Day-dreams — 

Come  this  dawn  of  June 

As  I  softly  lay  my  head 

Upon  the  cushion  of  the  grassy  knoll 

Over  the  bold  hill  of  Krotona — 

Robed  in  delicate  green  garb  of  summer! 

I  am  one  with  Nature 

In  Life's  inmost  sanctury. 

I  gaze  upon  the  endless  blue  billows  below 

And  the  boundless  rosy  sky  above, 

And  mine  eyes  drink  deep 

From  the  fount  of  thy  beauty, 

Amid  these  wild  flowers  that  blushingly  listen 

To  the  birds'  amorous  wooing 

And  bees'  jealous  petulant  groans. 

What  phantoms  come  and  go! 

This  dawn,  ere  the  light-flood  conies 

To  sweep  night's  languor  away, 

Whilst  still  throb  the  warmth  of  thy  touches, 

The  cadence  of  thy  moans, 

Ere  all  is  lost  and  forgotten, 

Oh,  let  me  die  the  deathless  death 

In  thine  own  arms ! 

O  beauteous  bride,  sweet  Dawn — 

O  Infinity  of  Form! 


19 


STAR-BABIES'   MOON-MOTHER 

Hushed  is  the  voice  of  Night. 
The  Moon-mother  has  led  out 
The  Star-babies  a-playing 
On  the  blue  meadow  of  the  sky. 

How  frolicsome  and  gay ! 
They  romp,  skip  and  run  away, 
Hide-and-seek  they  play 
Behind  the  tapestries  of  clouds, 
And  climb  the  arches  of  rainbow, 
Then  drop  upon  the  earth  dew-drops- 
Their  joy-tears  shed  in  play. 

Hushed  is  the  voice  of  Night. 
Where  the  Earth-children  sleep 
While  the  Moon-mother  plays 
With  wide-awake  Star-babies 
On  the  blue  meadow  of  the  sky, 
Far,  far  away. 


20 


MOONSTONE 

Deep  is  the  sea — 

From  shore  to  shore,  the  sight  mergeth 

Unto  the  billowy  blue  Infinity. 

In  its  depth  lies  the  gem. 

In  its  heart  of  heart, 

Amidst  what  tumult 

Unseen,  invisible  it  shines 

In  the  splendor  of  seven  moons! 

Come !  dive  deep  without  faint  or  fear ! 

For  the  lost  talisman  of  immortality 

Is  worthy  of  none  but  thee. 

Thou  blessed  Princess  of  the  Moon 

Fear  not,  though  deep  is  the  sea; 

Thy  moonstone  waits  for  thee. 


21 


TO   BENGAL 

A  mountain  of  dark  gray  clouds 

Rises  against  the  roseatte  sunset, 

My  last  sunset  on  thy  sacred  shores 

0  Sweet  Bengal — queen  of  the  Indian  sea ! 

The  sacred  blood  of  our  Sires — 

The  tears  of  our  mothers  and  maidens, 

Purest  of  earth's  sweetest  blossoms — 

Envy  of  the  Lotus,  Juthie  and  the  Bengal  Rose 

Came  crowding  on  thy  horizon 

Fading  fast  away  .    .    . 

Not  a  sob  of  wind, 

Nor  a  moan  of  the  Bengal  Bay! 

From  the  Mangoe  and  Cocoanut  groves 

The  Madana,  Moyna,  Teeah, 

Chirp  not  their  salutations  sweet, 

To  me  and  the  parting  Day. 

Grief-laden  and  sullen  is  the  earth, 

Sullener  still  the  heart. 

All  is  mute  at  this  parting  .    .    . 

Then,  as  the  mountain  of  dark  gray  clouds 

Rises  higher  and  higher  hiding  Thee  from  me, 

Widens  the  chasm  between  us, 

Could  I  but  say  to  Thee,  Adieu,  Adieu — 

My  golden  Bengal — queen  of  the  Indian  Sea! 

But  silence  seals  my  quivering  lips 

With  cold,  cold  kisses. 

All  seems  mute  at  this  parting, 

Yet  what  a  symphony  of  the  soul 
Plays  this  fallacious  silence 
On  this  parting  day ! 
On  the  Bengal  Bay. 

22 


SEA  OR  PYTHON? 


I/ 


What  a  huge  blue  blazing  python 

This  sea! 

Its  thousand  wave-hoods  arched  in  rage 

Hiss  fumes  of  death-gray  foams. 

It  writhes,  wriggles,  dashes  and  rolls 

In  mammoth  longitude — 

From  sky  to  sky. 

How  in  drunken  fury, 

It  groans  and  roars,  swings  and  sways 

Its  breaker  fangs^ 

Darts  to  smash  the  sandy  beach — the  earth. 

Oh,  whose  restless  spirit 
Is  this  blue  blazing  Python, 
Whose  impetuosity — 
This  sea? 


23 


/     MY  CITY 

Thou  art  no  city, 

Nor  mortal  haunt  or  mart, 

But  a  living  panorama  of  spirit, 

Indomnitable  and  bold, 

Incarnate  in  these  thy  myriad 

Marble  towers,  spires  and  domes — 

Heavenward  march  of  Man's  inmost  urge — 

Sincere,  invincible! 

None  but  a  dull  dead  soul 

May  look  upon  this  thy  seething  whirlpool 

Of  haunted  humanity 

And  remain  insensate — unmoved! 

*  *  * 

The  breath  of  dreadful  hurricane — thy  haste! 
In  thy  broad  bosom  meet  and  mingle 
The  West  and  East,  South  and  North, 
Heaven  and  Hell — pole  to  pole! 
And  thou  blendest  Past  and  Future, 
Old  and  New,  in  one  great  flood  of  light. 
Thy  ever-living  Present  rushes  on, 
Conquering  all,  inspiring  all — 
Lo !  the  city  of  faith's  eternal  flame ! 


24 


SHUTTLE  OF  FATE 

Weave  ye  shuttle  of  Fate, 
Weave  on  the  fabric  of  life 
A  new  and  abiding  pattern, 
For  the  hour  has  come 
To  alter  the  "scroll  of  Norn." 

Through  the  silent  depth  of  night, 
And  loudly  sonorous  day-long, 
Weave  on  silently — the  hour  cometh ! 
Unaware  we  waited  long,  too  long. 
You  in  a  lonely  castle  in  Sunset  Land 
And  I  in  the  wilderness  of  cities, 
Awaiting  these  Ides  of  March. 
We  knew  not  it  was  so  nigh. 
We  hats,ened  not, 
Nor  shall  we  tarry  now, 
On  the  path  of  the  pilgrimage  far. 
*         *         * 

Inscrutable  the  design 

Thou  hast  woven  with  skill, 

O,  shuttle  of  Fate, 

With  time  and  space, 

Two  hearts  with  thirst  of  ages, 

A  few  flowers  of  worship, 

Of  love  and  hope,  a  few  kisses, 

A  whisper,  tears  of  joy  and  pain, 

And  a  soul's  homage  to  a  soul — 

Awaiting  silently  in  the  lonely  castle, 

So  near,  yet,  so  far,  far  away. 


25 


THE  SUN  OR  THE  CRUCIFIX? 

The  sun,  a  huge  crucifix, 
Wallows  in  an  ocean  of  blood. 
Wave  after  wave  rises  and  dances 
Upon  the  far  horizon 
In  the  flaming  East. 

Whence  this  mad  rhythm  of  Nirvana? 
And  what  is  that  upon  the  crimson  crucifix? 
In  the  fast  fading  myriad  shapes  and  colours 
Transforming  this  mysterious  Cross  of  majesty, 
I  read  a  symbol  vast  and  true — 

A  Soul  crucified,  and  more ! 

*         *         * 

The  scarlet  hues  of  the  eastern  sky 
Like  frozen  red  dream-waves  heave, 
Alas!  from  whose  torn  heart? 
Whose  tears  unshed? 
Whose  cry  unheard? 


26 


INCARNATIONS 

Only  yesternight, 

In  the  shadow  of  the  Pyramids, 

My  own  Goddess,  Thou  and  I 

Watching  in  silence, 

Saw  the  folly  of  Pharaoh 

And  pride  of  Cleo  of  the  Nile. 

Thy  rose-lips  quivering 

In  soft  sweet  whispering — 

And  mine? 

Ah,  yesternight  on  the  shore  of  the  Nile, 

How  brief  the  short-lived  joy ! 

Yesternight — 

It  seems  but  yesternight — 

In  a  valley  of  midnight  sun 

Between  snow-crowned  crags  of  the  North 

Again  we  watched 

The  fury  of  the  fjords. 

In  strange  hush  of  misty  light — 

The  same  maddening  fury — 

But  ah,  how  brief  was  the  short-lived  joy. 

Yea,  again, 

And  yesternight  by  the  moon 

In  the  Peacock  garden  on  the  Ganges  shore 

Amid  perpetual  spring  of  youth 

At  the  threshold  of  Kama's  Ivory  Temple 

How  .  .  .  how  we  met. 

Yesternight ! 

For  it  seems  but  yesternight. 

And  tonight  .  .  . 

27 


WHY  TONIGHT 

Why  from  the  fount  of  immortality 

Hast  thou  filled  tonight 

This  golden  goblet  of  thine,  Beloved? 

Churning  of  what  ocean  deep 

Has  yielded  this  new  ambrosia  of  hope  ? 

To  waken  what  slumbering  soul, 

Draught  by  draught, 

Dances  this  sparkling  primal  rhythm 

In  sun  and  moon  and  stars  and  man, 

Thrilling  with  blind  uncertain  joy.  .  .  . 

But  why  bringest  thou  so  close 
This  golden  goblet  of  thyself,  so  frail, 
The  first  vintage  of  thy  youth, 
Nectar  of  the  immaculate  lotus-bud 
From  thy  pool  of  love  infinite — 

To  these  parched  lips  of  aeons  tonight  ? 
*  *  * 

Open  are  the  Ivory  Gates, 

A  joy-mad  earth  and  hell  and  paradise, 

Death  and  decay  are  conquered  all ! 

Tonight  the  soul  of  soul  awakes. 

A  thousand  suns  shall  shine,  night-long; 

There  shall  be  no  space,  no  time ! 

The  divine  crown  is  again 

Upon  the  brow  of  Nature's  Queen — 

Thou,  my  Beloved,  my  Eternity! 


28 


RESPONSE 

Faint,  frail,  uncertain  of  itself, 
Leaned  back  in  silence 
In  repose  of  sweet  agony 
In  the  temple  of  Night. 
The  stars  and  moon  above 
Swooned  in  enchanted  sympathy. 

No,  no,  away!  peep  not 

Into  this  lonesome  heart's  castle. 

Come  not  so  close ! 

Away  from  this  forbidden  garden! 

Has  it  been  guarded  in  vain, 

Awaiting  this  thy  triumphant  entry? 

Ah,  this  fateful  night, 

I  know  not  myself. 

Oh,  for  the  awakening  of  what  dead  soul 

Bringest  thou  me  thy  response? 

This  all-conquering  animation, 

This  world-desire,  like  an  avalanche, 

Swift,  blind,  and  impetuous 

Sweeps  all — bold  and  majestic. 

Tell  me,  Moon  and  sweet  Star-Maidens 

Through  the  voice  of  the  South  wind, 

Why  in  my  blood  this  delirium? 

Do  you  feel  with  me  the  same  thrills — 

Tonight,  in  the  far-off  sky? 

Ah,  'tis  then  the  conspiracy  of  Fate. 

Come !  be  all,  and  take  all 

Of  this  garden  of  life. 


29 


V' 


Where  tonight? 

Wandering  in  what  far-off  clime, 

Under  what  strange  stars, 

Watching  what  deep  sea's  surging  billows — 

Like  the  restless  soul, 

Forsaken 

But  unforgotten! 

Oh!     Where  tonight? 

Can  it  there  hear  the  call 

Of  the  shoreless,  endless  expectancy — 

Can  it  there  see  and  feel — 

Impatient  wooing  of  the  rebellious  April  breeze 

To  spring's  adolescent  jessamine  buds 

So  illuding,  amorous  and  shy — 

In  the  pale  desolate  moon  tonight.  .  .  . 


30 


TEMPTATION 

If  step  by  step,  hand  in  hand, 

Thou  hast  led  me  on 

To  the  Ivory  Temple  of  Dream, 

Now  bid  me  in,  Beloved. 

Vain  this  bashful  hesitancy  now. 

The  rebellious  joy, 

Wakened  in  the  bosom, 

Is  impatient  as  captive  doves ; 

The  whole  form  is  a-thrilled 

In  throbs  of  expectancy. 

Surging  ocean  waves 

Rock  and  swing  in  primal  rhythm 

Round  the  temple  of  living  Spirit 

In  ecstasy  of  worship — 

Vain  this  faltering  now. 

On  thy  rose-petaled  eager  lips 

Comes  the  sw?eet  silent  call, 

Thine  eyes  drooping  and  shy,  beckon 

The  message  of  the  North  Star; 

Bid  me  in,  Beloved, 

Into  thy  temple  of  worship, 

Lest  the   moon   mock   me    from   above. 

And  the  night  wind  spread  idle  tales 

Far  and  wide. 


31 


FORLORN 

How  impalpable  this  emptiness — 
In  the  stillness  of  starlight 
Through  the  spangles  of  mist 
I  see  not  far,  very  far — 
I  look  and  look  and  look  in  vain 
Where  it  was.    The  night-long 
Primal  warmth  of  ecstasy 
Graces  my  bosom  no  more. 

The  dew-draped  dawn 

Smiled  at  the  morning  glory; 

And  a  stray  nightingale 

Sang  its  far  lone  refrain. 

The  vision  smiled  and  murmured 

And  nestled  closer,  and  throbbed. 

As  the  night  fled,  dishevelled  and  deflowered, 

The  snow-shrouds  covered  evergreen  Earth 

With  the  widowed  mantle  of  peace! 

Oh,  Ave  Maria  of  the  morning  breeze! 


32 


NEW  CROSS 


What  new  cross  wilt  thou  bid  me  bear? 
In  what  sackcloth  and  ashes  repent? 
Of  what  wild  honey  and  locust-flower 
Wouldst  Thou,  the  New  Prophet,  partake? 
Through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death 
To  what  Golgotha  and  Gethsemene 
Will  there  be  the  new  Dawn 
And  the  New  Faith  proclaimed? 
.What  old  temple  will  burst  asunder 
From  spire  to  the  base — 
Cataclysm  and  earthquake — 
The  mortal  globe  wrecked  to  dust 

By  reign  of  terror  and  tears. 

*  *     * 

The  cross  is  growing  heavier, 

The  crown  of  thorns  pains  the  brow; 

The  lance  has  pierced  the  heart; 

Life  is  ebbing  out  in  precious  flow. 

But,  Oh,  the  will — the  will — is  not  done! 

Still  unquaffed  the  cup's  bitter  dregs. 

*  *     * 

Then  adieu,  farwell,  fair  earth ! 

This  new  cross,  ladder  of  my  paradise 

For  the  unspoken  whisper 

I  have  waited  aeons  to  impart 

Now  I  avow — 

Yea,  though  it  costs  me  the  cross.  .  .  . 


33 


CORONAL 

Why  weep  these  tears 

In  this  thine  hour  of  triumph, 

My  Fairy  Princess, 

Known  to  me  from  birth  to  birth? 

Thou  hast  oft  eluded  me, 

Now  thy  hour  cometh  once  more. 

Why  then  weepest  thou  these  tears? 

May  they  not  again  extinguish 

The  flame  of  abiding  faith  and  love 

On  the  altar  of  thy  heart's  core, 

My  Fairy  Princess, 

My  own  Love-Queen? 

For  this  worship  of  an  hour 
Have  I  not  waited  aeons? 
From  the  star  to  the  star, 
Moon  to  the  moon,  near  and  far 
The  long,  long  quest 
From  birth  to  birth.  .  .  . 
With  my  love-light  and  lyrics 
I  have  brought  my  heart's  throne 
To  enthrone  thee  forever — ever, 
Queen  of  Love's  Universe.  .  .  . 


34 


STAR-THIEVES 


The  moonbeams  are  made 

Of  thy  laughter, 

Thy  breath  makes  fragrant 

The  spring's  South  Sea  breeze. 

Cunning  star-thieves  steal 

The  merry  twinkle  from  thine  eyes. 

But  tonight  I  forgive  them; 

They  remind  me  of  thee. 

I  am  alone. 

Raven  locks  and  tresses 
Borrowed  from  thy  graces — 
They  waken  in  me  thy  caresses, 
Tonight,  when  I  am  lonely. 


35 


/  ODE  TO  INDIA 

Inde,  my  Inde,  how  sweet  thy  memory ! 
Dearest  land  of  sacred  lores, 
Shrine-abode  of  world-faiths — 
Man's  hope  of  hopes ! 

From  thy  enchanted  woodlands 
Come  the  echoes  of  bird-minstrels, 
The  Syamas'  whistles, 
The  Papias'  songs, 
Keel's  cooing  long. 
The  shy  bride-eyed  fawn's  play, 
In  the  mossy  dales  and  bowers ; 
Dance  of  the  proud  peacock  gay ; 
The  Apsara-fairies  gambol 
About  sky-kissing  Deodars 
Entwined  with  frail  Malati  vines. 

The  maidens  of  bronze  and  golden  hue 

With  bee-black  eyes,  coral  lips, 

Languorously  weave  wreathes  of  Bakula, 

In  shades  of  the  Taj  by  the  Lotus-lake; 

And  gaze  at  the  dome  of  frozen  tears — 

Token  of  Love's  triumph  o'er  Death. 

What  a  Paradise  on  earth  unfolds 

To  these  exiled  eyes. 

Soul's  worship  to  Thee, 

And  the  heart's  holiest  homage, 

Stronger  than  sword's  sharpest  pledge 

Are  thine  and  thine  own, 

Above  all  the  world 

For  all  the  time, 

All  the  time,  O  Inde ! 

36 


ANTICIPATION 

i 

This  last  day  of  the  cycle  of  the  years, 

As  we  sit  by  the  fire, 

What  visions  come  and  fade! 

What  signs  unfold! 

Gently  the  earth  beneath  kisses  your  lotus  feet. 

The  world  looks  fair  and  fresh  and  free ; 

Sky  so  beautiful,  so  enchantingly  blue; 

How  glorious  is  the  sun ! 

You  have  given  it  your  heart's  warmth 

To  waft  to  me  on  ethereal  wings. 

The  languor  of  the  virgin  Eve — beaming 

With  her  youth's  intoxicating  moonbeams, 

Is  but  the  image  of  thine  own  expectant  smile, 

In  anticipation — 

Of  the  dawn  of  the  new  Aeon ! 


37 


j        PAIN 

Ah,  Fate  give  me  back  my  pain, 

From  the  soul  of  the  young  and  the  aged, 

From  the  heart  of  the  new  and  the  old 

Pour  me  all  the  world's  pain. 

Vast  is  my  bosom — the  void  .    .    . 

Deep  as  the  soundless  seas 

In  thy  boundless  abode 

Long  have  I  loved  to  adore. 

0  Fate,  give  me  back  my  pain 
Ever  truest  unto  me 
Unfailing  in  her  trysts 

Clinging  closer,  closer  to  my  heart. 

*  *  * 

Then  come,  from  those  sunset  shores 
Within  this  enchanted  bower 
That  in  Life's  scented  sanctuary 

1  may  woo  thee  again,  0  Pain ! 

With  caresses  of  love's  festive  hour  .    .    . 
Pain,  0  world  pain,  O  love   .    .    . 
As  the  rose-bud  shiveringly  blushes 
At  the  bees'  first  tender  touches, 
There  blends  the  rhythm  of  hues 
With  melodies  of  hum  and  moans. 
So  are  thine  echoes  inexplicable 
On  my  desolate  harp  of  soul. 
P)orn  with  the  Earth's  first-born — 
Whose  joy  art  thou,  O  Pain! 
My  all  in  all,  my  very  own     .     .     . 


38 


MYSTIC  SUNSET 

What  mysterious  signs  on  the  horizon — 

Can  this  be  only  a  sunset? 

No,  no !  who  has  ever  seen  such  a  sky 

As  we  two  see  from  the  niche  of  thy  bovver, 

Over  forests  green  towers, 

And  snow-clad  dales. 

Far,  far  out, 

The  sky  is  an  ocean  of  soft  light, 

As  far  as  we  two  can  see 

And  beyond.  .  .  . 

O  Thou  sacred  Land  of  the  Aryans — 
Inde,  our  asylum  of  hope, 
Far,  far  out,  across  the  sea  of  light, 
We  greet  Thee  with  heart  and  soul — 
Our  dreams  and  hopes. 

O  the  golden-crowned  monarch, 

O  the  purple-robed  king  of  the  sky 

And  lord  of  the  virgin  dawn, 

Two  of  thy  children, 

Love-lorn  and  weary 

Look  at  Thee 

With  wistful  eyes  and  eager  hearts, 

Seeking  a  nook  to  nest  young  love, 

A  refuge  from  a  stolid  world, 

From  a  decaying,  death-dealing  horde. 

May  these  mysterious  signs  then 
Forbode  the  fulfilment  of  our  dream 
Call  us  to  the  holy  Ganges  shores, 
In  joy  and  glory  of  freedom! 

39 


/    CATHEDRAL 

What  a  towering  green-blue  dome 

Of  foliage  overhead 

Kisses  the  azure  sky. 

Corridor  of  arches  dense  and  deep 

The  mammoth  boughs  outspread, 

Rest  on  the  columns  of  ivory  gray 

Living  monoliths  tall  and  straight ! 

Entwining  all,  climb  and  cling 

The  vines  of  Kanaka  Lata — 

Golden  ivies  with  blushing  coral  blossoms 

Peep  through  the  veil  of  purple  mist. 

Incense  of  the  flowering  spring 

W'afts  with  the  heavy  moan 

Of  the  wooing  and  the  mating  doves, 

Languorous  in  the  slumbering  shade  above. 

Steeped  in  majestic  calm  of  ages 
Awaits,  alas,  whose  pilgrimage, 
Whose  loving  worship 
This  Cathedral  of  the  Bodhee  tree ! 


40 


SRI  GAUTAMA 

Enshrined  in  the  temple  of  space 

Enthroned  on  Eternity 

Thine  gemmed-lotus — the  Mahasan 

Heart  of  Humanity. 

The  star-candles, 

The  silvery  Mirror  of  the  Moon, 

The  gong  of  pealing  thunders 

The  sonorous  tolls  of  thousand  vesper  bells 

In  the  distant  roar  of  the  Deep. 

These  are  but  meagre  adoration 
Of  Thee— 
O  blessed  Gautama! 
Thy  golden  chariot 
On  million  Sun-disks, 
Wheels  'round  the  Infinity, 
With  what  a  resplendence ! 
Thy  loving  wisdom,  joy  of  growth — 
Unfolds  soul  of  Freedom  and  Peace — 
Thy  song  of  Nirvana, 
Brings  whispers  of  undying  Hope ! 


•41 


TONIGHT 

The  dreadful  Angel 

With  dark  wings  overspread 

Enmeshes  the  earth  from  pole  to  pole. 

The  rain,  her  sobs, 

The  snow,  her  frozen  tears, 

The  wild  winds  of  the  West,  her  sighs. 

Tonight  all  is  dread,  terror  and  tears. 

Lo,  those  death-dark  wings  come  nearer  now, 

Strangle  life,  pull  heart-strings 

And  wildly  laugh  and  mock, 

They  crush  and  crush 

Atom  by  atom,  petal  by  petal, 

Youth's  sweetest  dream-rose, 

Hope's  choicest  bud ! 

How  cruel  night's  dark  wings ! 


42 


BELL,  CANDLE,  AND  BOOK 

Bell,  Candle  and  Book, 

A  little  incense  and  myrrh — 

No  purple  crepe 

Nor  any  black-gowned  pale-faced  mourner, 

No  orgies  of  tears  and  sobs  and  sighs, 

Mocking  and  insensate, 

When  I  pass  unto  Nirvana! 

The  bells  of  the  west  wind 

Blowing  in  gale, 

The  candles  of  the  midnight  stars 

On  the  salver  of  the  sky, 

And  this  Thy  Book  of  Fate 

With  life's  hidden  lores  unsipped,  unexplored, 

A  single  violet  or  lotus, 

Sweet  flower  of  fancy 

In  the  garden  of  Thine  and  mine, 

Are  all  that  I  ask. 

Sing  no  songs  of  sorrow, 
No  psaltry  of  sobs ; 
Toll   no  other  bells, 
Light  no  other  candles, 
Read  no  other  book 
When  I  flicker  out — 
Unto  Nirvana! 

No  heavy  stones  on  my  frail  form, 

My  cold  ,cold  ashes. 

Memorial  ? 

Only  a  pearl  wreath 

Woven  of  thy  tear-drops 

My  last  memories 

Mothered  in  Earth's  bosom 

With  thy  Bell,  Candle  and  Book! 

43 


THE  VESPER  SONG 

My  Love,  O  come,  and  watch  with  me 
The  farewell  beams  kissing  the  sea ; 
With  bridal  veils  of  evening  trails, 
Sweetly  entwines  each  vine  and  tree. 
In  primal  chants  the  gentle  lea, 
As  love-lorn  lights  longingly  flee, 
Whispers  soft  in  its  vesper  glee — 
Come,  Soul-mate,  come !    Heart  longs  for  thee. 
Ah,  arm  in  arm,  our  hearts  beat  one : 
Love's  coronal  though  far  :s  won — 
Thus  we  triumph,  though  world  forsak'n, 
This  eve  regain  our  long  lost  heav'n ! 


THY  TEMPLE 

Oh,  where  shall  I  build  Thee  a  temple, 
The  sky  so  low,  dwarfs  its  spires, 
The  Void  small,  ah,  too  small, 
The  universe  none  too  wide  for  a  base, 
For  thy  fitting  Temple 
O  Loving  Goddess  mine  .    .    . 
How  shall  I  worship  Thee — 
All  the  flowers  of  all  the  lands, 
Of  every  season  and  hue  and  scent, 
And  the  flaming  lotus  of  my  soul 
Have  I  sanctified  in  offering  to  Thee, 
Loving  Goddess  mine. 
And  where  are  my  chant  and  rosary  ? 
Amid  the  deep  symphony  of  the  Seas 
The  wild  gale  danceth  with  wilder  waves 
Thy  vestal  virginal  dance  of  my  senses   .    . 
My  rosary  of  the  Stars — 
Thunder  Heralds  on  chariot  of  clouds 
Mingle  their  trumpet  blares, 
With  the  sweet  choristers  of  the  song  birds- 
Vesper  and  Matin  of  their  strains  .    .    . 
The  Planets  dance  in  Space 
A  timeless,  endless,  ceaseless  dance 
In  my  own  ecstasy. 
Shall  Thy  Temple  be— 
In  my  Soul 's  inmost  sanctuary  T 


MOTHER 


Thine  own  garland  this 

I  lay  at  thy  lotus  feet, 

Mother  mine 

Woven  of  strange  blossoms  though, 

Plucked  from  strange  gardens 

Across  the  seven  seas, 

On  this  pilgrimage  from  shore  to  shore 

Away,  far  away  from  Thee   .    .    . 

Thine  own  hymn  this, 

I  now  scribe  and  chant, 

Mother  mine, 

Though  in  tongues  strange, 

Of  distant  lands  and  lores, 

Across  the  seven  seas 

On  this  pilgrimage  from  shore  to  shore 

Seeking  a  Hymnal  for  Thee   .    .    . 

Thine  own  worship — 

All  my  noble  thought  and  deed 

Mother  Mine ! 

In  thy  boundless  love, 

1  have  made  the  world  one  with  me ! 

May  I  live  and  labour  and  die  for  Thee ; 

Sing  the  song  of  Thy  freedom — 

Wherever  may  I  be, 

Thine  annointed  and  ordained! 

Unconquered,  unconquerable — 

O.  Mother  Mine ! 


46 


TO  PERET  HIRSHBEIN 

Thou  celestial  song-bard! 

Poet-priest  of  Youth's  abiding  hope, 

The  enduring  faith  of  Ages. 

How  the  world  old  dreams, 

Once  sleeping  in  the  stars 

And  in  the  eyes  of  youth, 

Now  kiss  the  light,  on  the  wings 

Of  thy  colors  and  shades  and  words. 

Glory,  joy,  mirth,  love, 

Weave  pearl  wreaths  of  morning  dew. 

Fancy  with  her  amorous  arms 

And  vibrant  ruby  lips  sips 

Nectar  from  life's  first  feast 

Of  Passion  sublime! 


47 


ODE  TO  THE  INDIAN  OCEAN 

Ocean,  Indian  Ocean,  my  own  ocean ! 
I^ast  eve  did  I  hear  in  thee, 
The  uproar — tumult  of  a  soul ; 
A  voice  that  shivered  to  the  suns, 
And  the  moons  and  the  stars, 
And  to  all  the  worlds  unseen! 

Came  there  life's  first  ecstasy — 
The  rebellious  adolescence, 
Amid  the  rapturous  song  of  thy  tides. 
In  the  dance  of  thy  impatient  waves, 
Came  to  the  eyes  a  vision  sublime, 
Playing  with  the  heart's  impetuous  flames. 
In  what  a  holocaust  of  raging  passion, 
The  whole  universe  was  aflame — 
I^ast  eve  as  I  gazed  upon  thee ! 

But  this  dawn — 

As  thou  reclinest  on  the  divan 

Of  the  ivory  shores  of  Jagamnath, 

So  langourous,  pale  and  wan, 

What  a  gentle  melody  comes  in  thy  moans ! 

What  loving  caresses — 

In  thy  million  arms.    Now  calm — 

All  is  calm,  without — within ! 

The  incense-kissed  breeze  of  the  dawn 
Plays  with  thy  golden  locks; 
Scatters  them  to  the  four-winds, 
Then  weaves  them  into  garlands, 
Of  new  planets  and  globes ! 


48 


The  call  of  the  Puri  Matin-bells 

Mingles  with  the  melody  of  thy  echoes, 

Summon  all  to  the  Temple  of  Silence — 

A  hush  .  .  . 

Thou  ecstasy  of  triumphant  hopes 

Ocean,  Indian  ocean,  My  ocean ! 

My  very  own  .  .  . 


49 


I/         NATAL  DAY 

To-day  is  the  day  of  days 
Thy  natal  day,  my  love 
And  loves  crowning  day ! 
What  shall  I  offer  thee, 
Princess  mine,  my  love-goddess 
With  what  shall  I  worship  thee — 
On  this  day  of  day — thy  natal  day? 

^  5 

The  ruby-red  roses, 
Of  my  ocean  deep  passion — 
Have  I  not  offered  thee 
Long,  long  ago?    And  did  not  you 
Crush  them  to  thy  bosom — 
In  ecstasy  of  response? 
My  silver-white  rosary, 
I  brought  to  thee, 
My  calm  dreams; 
Thine  also  the  incense 
Of  my  soul's  resplendent  gleam ; 
Thine  the  golden  lotus 
With  the  thousand  petals — 
My  lyrics  of  the  Dawn — 
For  thee — all  for  thee. 
On  this  day  of  day,  and  evermore! 
Ah,  what  else  havejl,  but  thyself? 


so 


THE  TAJ  MAHAL 

The  Taj  now  like  a  huge  white  swan 
Floats  on  the  ocean  of  moon  beams, 
As  the  world  round  vanishes 
Into  the  opalesque  ethereal  mists 
Of  this  autumn  full  moon  night. 

There  is  naught  but  the  pale  pangs 

Silhoueted  in  an  earthly  form 

In  this  silent  shrine  of  sorrow 

This  Palace  of  Pain. 

This  lyric  in  stone  chaste  and  enduring 

O  what  a  refrain  brings  from  the  Past — 

They  that  build  shrines  to  the  vain  gods, 

Or  fearsome  ghosts,  cruel  phantoms, 

Or  the  unseen  hosts  of  the  skies, 

May  scoff  at  thee,  pass  thee  by,  unheeding; 

But  O  marble  mausoleum,  every  atom  of  thee, 

Is  but  frozen  anguish  and  ecstasy  of  love. 

Art  thou  not  a  living  throbbing  loving  Token. 

Of  all  that  Man  feels  and  forfeits, 

At  the  Altar  of  the  One  lost  yet  adored 

In  this  pilgrimage  of  Life  to  Death ! 

Symbol  of  a  soul's  enduring  bliss,  art  thou, 

O  TAJ— O  noble  Temple  of  Tears ! 


51 


IN   NIRVANA 

X<>,  Thou  art  gone;  but  not  dead! 
Thou  can'st  not  die,  O  spirit  invincible ! 
invisible  though  now,  Beloved, 
Thou  art  neares^to  me  than  ever  before, 
1  Dwelling  in  my  own  temple  of  thought ! 

The  Champa,  Shefali  and  Jui  yet  bloom. 
At  rise  and  set  of  the  Sun  and  the  Moon ; 
The  birds  sing  and  the  bees  hum ; 
Murmuring  flows  the  Ganges  streams. 
Do  they  not  bring  the  far  off  echoes  of  thy  voice? 
When  all  is  here;  all  who  adored  thee.— 
What  if  atom  to  atom  did  fly? 
The  dust  unto  the  dusty  earth — 
To  the  tempest  impetuous,  thy  breath ; 
To  the  clouds  the  water  and  tears ; 
Elements  play  of  hide  and  seek — 
On  the  lap  of  adoring  Nature,  all  this ! 

But  thy  spirit? 

So  gentle  and  sweet  and  loving — 
Closest  of  all  my  kin^  on  this  globe. 
By  the  tie  of  flesh  and  blood. 
Faith  and  hope  and  more! 
Lo,  this  incense  upward  climbing, 
Vault  by  vault,  star  by  star, 
To  the  seven  heavens  and  the  beyond. 
I  ,ike  pilgrimage  of  thy  soul  of  soul ! 

Shall  I  weep  and  sob  and  sigh 
For  thee,  O  child  of  Immortality  ? 
When  through  the  Gates  of  Death 
Into  the  Shrine  of  Infinity  of  Bliss 
Attainest  thou  thy  quest — thy  Mukti. 
O  child  of  Brahman,  so  sweet  and  free ! 
For  thee  now  is  the  Repose, 
In  the  glory  of  the  Nirvana ! 

52 


UNSONG  SONG 

The  unsung  song  wails, 
Wails  for  the  lost  chord 
From  the  gray  depths  of  ocean 
To  the  tower  of  the  stars — 
All  is  wailing, 
Wailing. 

Day-long,  night-long, 

Vault  to  vault, 

Echoing  in  eternal  throbs, 

Danceth  in  color  and  sound, 

In  aeons  of  autumn,  summer  and  spring 

My  own  unsung  song. 

The  whisperings  of  my  soul — 

I  hear  in  chirping  birds ! 

The  wail  of  the  west  wind, 

Thunder  of  the  cloud-sprite, 

Incessant  calling  of  the  sea, 

And  the  dreamy  hum  of  the  honey-bees 

Bring  but  a  faint  refrain 

Through  the  infinite  rhythm 

Of  my  own  unsung  song! 


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